


Misplaced

by Kalla_Moonshado



Series: Conspiracy of Ravens [3]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Arcane constructs, Archmage Khadgar is hella sexy, At least what passes for dirty talk for mages, Coming Untouched, Coming at the sound of someone's voice, Dirty Talk, Explosive Arcane Orgasm, Explosive Orgasms, I blame the writers of RavenTrust here on AO3, I have created a monster with a mind of its own, It's all your fault, Karazhan, Khadgar sass, Khadgar snark, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Magic, Magic in sex, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasmic Arcane Explosion, Overstimulation, Raventrust, Rough Sex, Soul-baring, The more I write the more tags I wind up with, Typical mercurial Medivh, Underage because Apprentice Khadgar is technically underage, Very rough sex, What Have I Done, Why am I writing this at all?, Why am I writing this instead of sleeping, but not really, death and injury, it's all my fault, no it's not, technical first time, there will be angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-21 07:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10680255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalla_Moonshado/pseuds/Kalla_Moonshado
Summary: Set sometime during Legion.  Khadgar returns to Karazhan for answers - a bit less frantically than in the Harbingers short.  He finds his research, and also finds his heart (and body) still yearn for the Magus who once taught him.  He also finds said Magus and proceeds to [CENSORED] and then [CENSORED] while [CENSORED] and then....[4/21/17 - Updated tags for upcoming chapters][4/23/17 - Updated tags again. You've all corrupted me so horribly...][4/24/17 - Changed my timeline a bit. Because ... reasons.]





	1. Memory

**Author's Note:**

> Since diving into the LionTrust and RavenTrust pairings (reading only, since I tend to write only for my own OCs), my mind has been plagued.  
> I blame those of you who write such wonderful things, inspiring me to attempt to write (hopefully) wonderful things.  
> My last foray was not RavenTrust – unless that incorporates the sort of love one has for a father figure one never knew they NEEDED until they lost them.  
> This? This is RavenTrust in the proper sense. And because I can’t seem to write cheerful!Khadgar, have some angst to go with the rest of it. Because. Angst.  
> Not beta'd in any way, since I decided not to write the other part(s) before posting, mostly to see if anyone thinks it's worth my letting a Khadgar!Muse in and taking over, delaying Last Breath. Again XD  
> [4/21/17 - Corrected several errors in grammar, spelling and forgotten words and punctuation.]

It was not often that Khadgar found himself back in the tower of Karazhan.  He usually went hunting for a book vaguely remembered from his youth that he thought might contain an answer for a question that had occurred to him that he thought may have crossed his mind before.  His mind was often so full that things tended to spill out, and something would put it back – a name, a face, an event, his own mind turning in circles as he tried to sleep.

It was this occasion that brought him to the tower now, as he sighed at the wreckage that seemed to accumulate further with each visit.  Often, he would attempt to sweep some of the cobwebs and dust away, though he had given up when he realized the entire servant’s quarter (which he often wondered about, considering it was so large, or at least the fallen walls gave the impression it was, and he had only known Moroes and Cook to be present) had been completely infested.  Not that he hadn’t seen ghostly valets, kitchen helpers and other imprints moving about, and he often wondered what it was like before, when Medivh was younger, or perhaps when his mother had dwelled here.

He winced at the loud creak of the gate into the foyer, and the ominous slam when it closed; the latch clicked with the sound of a locking door, though he knew from experience that it was not locked – at least not to him.

Not like he was the only person to have been here either – adventurers had swept through the tower, and some of the wreckage, he suspected, was from their carelessness.  The guest quarters were a giant wreck, for instance, and the opera hall (what had possessed Medivh to build an opera hall of all things?) saw bloodstains in the gallery, orchestra pit and on the stage that were not from times past, but much more recent.

Let the ghosts lie, he decided in the end.  Let them have their long abandoned joys and revelry.

He crossed the main hall, and paused as an imprint walked through in front of him, not for the first time, and not for the last.

_“Magic’s strong here. Strong, and wrong, sometimes. You see… things…”_

He watched his younger self cross the hall, loping along beside Moroes as the older castellan continued to offer him blinders, explained Cook’s rose quartz glasses, and he sighed.  Neither deserved the end they had …

Well.  That was neither here nor there. Not now.

He continued across the hall and up a set of stairs, then another, and yet another.  There were three rooms that could have been given the name of “library” in the tower – the main library that encompassed two floors, the Magus’ private study, and a smaller nook that felt more like the library he now had, no matter where he called “home”.  A small reading room, more like, combined with a study and sitting room with comfortable furniture, a warm fire, tall windows and tables to hold snacks and drinks – and of course the current books-in-progress at day’s end.

His destination was the main library, the one he had organized in his youth.  As he looked around upon reaching it, he sighed, and lifted Atiesh over his head, the glow it produced illuminating ... chaos.  All of his work, undone.  Books piled haphazardly, bookcases toppled, some books still smoldering – though whether that was the work of the idiot adventurers or of the demons that had once plagued the tower it was impossible to tell.  With a sigh, he looked around the room, and managed to find at least one functioning light, though it was hard to tell it was actually functional; the dust was thick and it looked as though it had attracted at least half the room’s worth of dust.

He fought to keep from rolling his eyes as he reached into the satchel at his side and pulled out a dust-rag.  He was nothing if not resourceful after all.  Once the globe was clean, the light was a bit better, though it would not be long before the sun would come in through the set of windows just over –

– Just over where the sun would never shine through the destruction again.  Khadgar rolled his eyes, gave up on trying to gain further light, and rubbed his nose with his free hand, Atiesh held in the other as he began moving through the shelves.

 

He could have been seventeen again, nose in a book at a familiar worktable (one of the few still intact, where he had found the globe), poring over the words, lips moving unconsciously, even as his fingers reached for the quill just to his right side, dipping it into the inkwell to its left, tapping it on the folded parchment pad below it, and moving to take notes without ever taking his eyes from the book.

He could almost believe that if he looked up, he might meet the eyes of his mentor.  He could almost believe that he might hear Moroes’ slow shuffle as he checked on the apprentice.  His eyes scanned the pages before him, absorbing the words as though he saw the practice of it in motion, his mind working quickly to see the practical application of—

His head snapped up at the sound of scraping – the scrape of a chair across the dusty floor.  The quill dropped from his ink-stained fingers and his hand shot to the side to curl around Atiesh, and hold it aloft, the light spilling over the library wreckage.

“Who’s there?” he called, his voice hoarse from hours of disuse.  His tongue darted out to moisten lips he had not realized had gone dry.  His words echoed back at him faintly from the upper reaches of the library, having been twisted into something much larger and confused in the years he had been gone.

Silence met his challenge, and his eyes darted from shadow to shadow out of Atiesh’s reach. Heartbeats passed. Minutes passed, and the only sound was that of his own breathing.  Slowly, he set Atiesh back down, resting it against the table once more, and his fingers lifted the quill, tutting over the splotches of ink across the notes he had been taking.  He shifted to a new sheet and copied what was legible of the original notes, then continued writing, his eyes lowering back to the pages of the book.

A tutting sound came from behind him, and he stiffened.  Whatever – whoever – whatever had crept up on him had done so swiftly and silently and was close enough that he would not be able to reach for the staff a second time.

“Relax, Young Trust,” came the whisper from somewhere to his left, nearly at the level of his ear.

Khadgar swallowed, harshly; his every muscle tensed for fight or flight as adrenaline began flooding his veins.  He dared not speak, dared not move, though he thought he heard the quill in his fingers crack as he tensed.

“That is the opposite of relaxing,” the whisper came again, chiding gently.  A whisper of fabric against the dust of the floor caused Khadgar’s eyes to shift to his left, searching the shadows.  “All these years and you are still afraid of me?”  This time the voice was more than a whisper, and it was as warm as the Archmage remembered it, in those times where the Magus had taught him, worked with him, spent time with him just to spend time with the apprentice who would one day take his place. Or at least pretend to.

A hand, long-fingered and spidery, nails long but manicured rested on the table beside his right hand, the sleeve of the robe brushing against Khadgar’s wrist.  Khadgar’s eyes shifted to it, and stared at it, and swallowed again.

“Infusion? Looking to create an artifact of power, Young Trust?”  The voice was still warm with approval. “You have not neglected to study, even now.”

“M-Medivh?” Khadgar whispered, more because his throat and mouth had gone dry – drier than before.

Another tutting sound, and a glow of faint blue-violet.  The hand lifted, and returned, offering a mug to the Archmage.  Still frozen in place, Khadgar could only look at it.  “It isn’t poisoned.  I haven’t poisoned anything I’ve conjured in many, many years, and the first time was because I slurred a syllable.”  A gentle hand tugged the quill from Khadgar’s fingers, and set it down above the sheaf of notes, then returned to wrap the Archmage’s now-free hand around the mug.

“Haven’t you learned to look after yourself?”  Khadgar started guiltily, and it seemed to break the spell his body had held itself in.  His fingers wrapped around the mug, and his head finally turned as his heartrate slowed, his breathing eased, and his body began to relax minutely.  “Spring water, young one. Just spring water.”

Khadgar lifted the mug to his parched lips and sipped, cautiously.  Sweet spring water, tinged with the mana that had conjured it. It cooled his mouth and throat, and eased the ache he hadn’t realized was there.  He should have known better, considering the amount of dust he had to clear away in order to have a clear workspace, the globe that augmented the light still dimly shining from Atiesh, and the pile of books in front of him.  Another sip – slowly, slowly; he knew better than to drain the mug at once.  A third and his throat stopped hurting when he swallowed.  He sighed.  “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice somewhat restored.

A chuckle answered him as a chair shifted, and Medivh settled into it with a sigh, the aged and abused wood creaking.  So he was real. This was real – or a fevered dream, induced by dust and residual magic and the haunted nature of the tower.  Silence between them stretched as Khadgar drank, feeling his body protest bitterly at the abuse of the past few hours.  He pushed it down as he drained the last of the water, then set the mug down with a sigh.

As soon as his hand left the mug, a hand entwined it.  “Look at me, Khadgar,” Medivh murmured.

Compelled, the Archmage raised his pale blue eyes to meet the former Guardian’s.  He couldn’t suppress the swift intake of breath, the vice around his heart, or the twitch of his body as shock touched him.  The green eyes were not glowing with demonic fel. They were soft and tinged with silver and gold as the Magus offered a little sad smile.  “All this time, and I come here to find you unable to care for yourself.”  Green eyes searched blue, and the smile faded.  “I know only a little of what you’ve seen since … since we last met.  You have much resting on your shoulders, and my only regret is that I did not prepare you for it properly.”  The hand in his tightened as Khadgar tensed again.

“No – no you did, and you taught me the strength to do what I must do—“

“No, I did not.  You saved what was left of my soul that day, and then I left you to your own way.  From what I have seen and heard from my sources, you have surpassed all of my expectations and more.”  He lifted Khadgar’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the knuckles. “I am proud of you, Young Trust.”

Khadgar swallowed, hard, swallowing down the tears that sprang to his eyes.  He was seventeen again, and this was just an evening after a particularly long day of practice.  He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.  He closed his mouth, closed his eyes, and drew a long, deep, shuddering breath.  “I have missed you,” he whispered at last.  “I can’t believe you’re here. I can’t believe you’re real.  It’s just… so… so…”

He heard the shift of the chair, and the angle of their entwined hands changed as Medivh moved.  Khadgar felt a cool breath against his cheek before the Magus’ lips settled on his in a sweet, short kiss.  “Is this real enough for you?” he murmured against Khadgar’s lips.

Khadgar gasped, his eyes opening in surprise, and bit back a sob. “Almost,” he managed to say before leaning forward, crushing his lips to Medivh’s, lifting from his chair slightly as his other hand reached up to his mentor’s shoulder.

The hand not in Khadgar’s moved to encircle the Archmage, and the scrape of wood on wood and a loud clatter shattered the silence as light danced erratically, then went out.  They broke apart hastily; Khadgar’s cheeks tinging pink, Medivh chuckling softly.

“You never were one to be patient.”  The former Guardian tilted his head slightly.  “Am I real enough for you?”  At Khadgar’s nod, he chuckled again.  “I take it,” he said softly, withdrawing his hand from his former apprentice’s and retrieving the fallen staff and resting it in its new owner’s hand, “that you have kept in practice?”

“No,” came the soft answer as Khadgar’s hand tightened on the shaft of the staff, the soft glow rekindling. “Never.” The last was barely a whisper.

Medivh’s hand covered Khadgar’s on the staff, and the glow brightened enough so he could see his former apprentice clearly.  Green eyes searched blue once more, noting the silvery quality to their color.  “What troubles you?”

Khadgar looked up, swallowed and shook his head.  Too many emotions were warring inside him, reactions, actions playing in his mind, and the chaos was nearly as bad as the library around them. “I—“ He could not form the words to explain himself.

“Too much,” Medivh supplied.  His hand turned slightly and lifted from Khadgar’s and the staff dimmed.  He took Khadgar’s wrist and tugged.  Ever obedient, Khadgar responded by standing when the Magus did.  Medivh moved around the table, gently taking the staff and laying it across the table, then leaned in to kiss Khadgar again, this time without the table in the way.

Khadgar closed his eyes, his hands lifting, hesitantly as he felt both of Medivh’s curl around him, one around his shoulders, one around his waist.  He leaned into the kiss as his arms settled around the Magus.

Medivh broke the kiss softly, turning his head to speak. “Leave the guilt behind, Young Trust. There is no need for it.  Leave the sense of failure behind – you have done more than you know.  When was the last time someone told you that you had done well, that you were appreciated, that someone loves you?”

Khadgar was quiet for a long moment, content to breathe in the older man’s scent.  “I have – tried. So many lost. So little I could do.  I am told constantly that I am brilliant, reckless, and stupidly lucky – that most of my insane ideas shouldn’t work when they do.” He snorted a mirthless chuckle. “I don’t know if that is praise or damnation, but Someone has to … to…”

“Take my place?” Medivh pressed a kiss to Khadgar’s neck and sighed.  “No one person should take all that on their shoulders.  You fight. You lose and you gain, but you should never think that you are the only one.  If others make you think so – or worse, back away when action is needed… I’m not talking about limitations of skill and power – for you have both in more than enough to replace me – but in will and courage – then they don’t deserve to know you.”

Khadgar’s arms tightened around Medivh as he shook his head.  “It’s the ones who follow me into the fray that are lost more often than not.  So many, so many…”

“And if you take their failings as your own, you’re a sentimental fool,” Medivh replied harshly. “But, your heart is such that you will never blame someone else – and you will take it all upon yourself, whether you earned it or no.  You are so much more than I could have been, and yet… and yet…”

“And yet, I am still an apprentice in comparison.”

“No. The day you took it upon yourself to watch over me, try to tell me of the demons in my tower, the days you spent exhausting yourself at the wards so nothing would get in – it was then that you surpassed me, and all of my wildest expectations.  It was then that I realized I loved you.”

Khadgar could bite back the sob, but he was helpless to stop the tears that spilled from his tightly closed eyes. “I never thought – you tried to keep your distance, and I know why _now_ but then it hurt. I wanted so much, and time was so fleeting and short and—“

Medivh silenced the torrent of words with another kiss, this time heated as his arms slid lower along Khadgar’s back, one hand trailing over his rear.  “And right now, there is no time here.  We have all the time we want.  Your book and notes will still be there.” With a possessive tug, he pulled Khadgar flush against him, making his obvious desire well known, and smiled slightly when he realized he wasn’t the only one.  “So beautiful, my Young Trust. Always the innocent but not innocent.”

Khadgar may as well have been reduced to being seventeen again. He couldn’t stop the color from rising into his cheeks, spreading to his ears and down the back of his neck.  He rocked against Medivh, and the noise that escaped him made the older man chuckle.  “You have not kept in practice?” Medivh asked again, and Khadgar shook his head.  “Do you remember?” he breathed against Khadgar’s ear.  A nod. “Here, or perhaps we can find—“

“I don’t care,” Khadgar hissed, his own arms shifting against Medivh, sliding one knee between the other’s. Decades of suppressed emotion and desire bubbled up in him like a dormant volcano waking.  His hips shifted restlessly, pressing himself against Medivh’s thigh and shifting in an effort to find friction through layers of his robes.

“I do,” came the amused reply.  “I will not have you so uncomfortable after so long for want of a little sense.  You have been patient for years, surely you can be patient a few more moments?”

Khadgar whined softly, much like he had when he had been younger, pressed against his master just as he was now, all adolescent want and need and his heart bursting with love for someone who was technically forbidden him.  But, he was older now, he reminded himself sternly.  He drew in a deep breath and forced his hips to still, forced his arms to relax, forced himself to draw away before he embarrassed himself by proving his decades of technical celibacy.

He could not control his sleeping body, after all, any more than he could control the majority of his dreams.

Medivh let him go with reluctance. “There was a small reading room upstairs, was there not?” he murmured.  “You liked it there, once you discovered it.  I mean, I couldn’t have you sleeping on the tables, once I found you had been doing so.”

Khadgar jerked backwards suddenly, his eyes wide. “What?”

“You didn’t think I’d find out about that, hm? Moroes knew. It concerned him enough to tell me.”  Medivh leaned forward and whispered softly against Khadgar’s ear, “why do you think it was oh-so-convenient the first time you lost control of yourself, confessed it all, and begged me to touch you?”

Khadgar gasped and he very nearly pulled Medivh against him again.  He could remember. Oh, _yes_ he remembered that day.

_The sound of shattering glass, splintering wood and the unmistakable sound of something exploding shook the tower.  Typically, at this time of day, Medivh left Khadgar to his own devices, studying, researching, experimenting, learning to stand or fall on his own.  But an explosion was not something normal – at least not from the one he had at last named “apprentice”._

_Where normally he would sigh, set down his work, and calmly descend the stairs if noise reached him from the library below, the sound and more importantly the rattling saw him drop the astrolabe and turn to run down the stairs.  He stopped at the library entrance, where Moroes stood shaking his head and muttering._

_There was a half-globe of crystal on what was left of a scorched table.  As Medivh skidded into the room, it slid down the slope and shattered on the scorched floor.  A bookcase leaned precariously forward, looming over the prone form of his apprentice, who appeared to be whole, if not unhurt.  At least all of his limbs and extremities were attached and he was not covered in blood, and there was no pool beneath him.  It appeared that he had been thrown backwards by whatever had happened._

_The pitiful cry as Khadgar tried to move sent chills of terror down Medivh’s spine, and he checked the impulse to run to the youth, instead moving quickly, but calmly to his side.  He raised one hand and the bookshelf righted itself; no use having it fall on the boy._

_He lifted Khadgar’s shoulders and head with extreme care, to find the blue eyes half-open and dazed.  He gently tapped the young man’s cheek, speaking carefully and slowly.  “Are you all right?  Young Trust, speak to me – what happened here?”  He vaguely heard Moroes shuffle out of the room, presumably to find a broom._

_Khadgar moaned again as his eyes opened to see Medivh looming over him.  He gasped and sat upright, one hand lifting quickly to his head.  “’m sorry, Magus.” His eyes widened slightly in fear. “I fell asleep… didn’t realize what I was doing. Muttering in my sleep I guess.”_

_Medivh said nothing, but looked from his apprentice to the table and crystal and back again. “In your sleep,” he repeated. Khadgar nodded.  “Why were you sleeping here?” Khadgar blushed. “I see. Well, come on. We’ll see about this headache you seem to have.”_

_Instead of carrying the younger man to his room, he carried him up the stairs and into a small, cozy study.  It was furnished simply with a chaise, a couple of overstuffed and comfortable chairs, low tables and a single bookcase, which was currently empty other than two books, both of which were clearly_ not _spell books or histories or anything scholarly._

_Gingerly, Medivh set his charge down on the chaise, then ran his fingers over the back of his head, gently.  Khadgar sucked in a breath, hissing a little, but nothing more.  Medivh nodded.  “Well, you’re going to be sore for a day or two, but there seems to be no permanent damage.  Can you move for me?”_

_The next few moments had Khadgar moving fingers, toes, knees, elbows, neck, eyes and tongue according to instructions.  Satisfied that his apprentice was not damaged, Medivh chuckled.  “This room has been used to sleep in before – had I known you were sleeping in the library… well.  I cannot claim to have not done so myself.  Weary feet and long staircases do not mix well.  You just stay here, and get some_ real _sleep.”_

 _As he turned to go, he heard a sniffle, then a ruthlessly suppressed sob.  That didn’t sound like the confident, but inexperienced youth he had taken as his apprentice at all.  He turned back, to see Khadgar rubbing one eye with his hand, biting his lip hard enough to turn it white.  Melancholy in the face of an injury perhaps? Stress reaction?  He hesitated.  The young man had managed to worm his way into the older mage’s heart over time, but now was no time to think of such things. An offer of comfort could too quickly turn into something the young man_ didn’t _want, and his own mercurial nature would all but ensure he couldn’t stop himself once he started._

_Khadgar was trying to sit up, one lock of his white streak falling into his face as he struggled.  He seemed unaware that Medivh was still there.  He was muttering to himself in an angry, hurt tone, and Medivh moved to the back of the chaise so the younger mage could not see him, but so he could hear every word Khadgar said._

_“Bloody brilliant, stupid. Perfect way to prove your capabilities. Perfect way to have his hands on you, and now you.. you..” He let out a short snarl and leaned forward, his head in his hands.  He barely felt the weight shift, and didn’t even realize it had as Medivh sat next to him._

_“Young Trust?”_

_Khadgar’s neck made a soft crunching noise as he jerked his head up.  Wide blue eyes stared into calm green ones, and then quickly dropped. His cheeks turned red._

_“You … didn’t finish what you were saying.” Khadgar shook his head. “I would like you to,” Medivh tried, more quietly._

_“Diligence,” Khadgar finally said softly. “You respect competence and diligence and perfection.”_

_“I also cherish your curiosity, quick mind and wit, and the way you are usually – usually so honest with me,” Medivh countered softly.  At the word “cherish”, Khadgar’s breath hitched slightly, but he kept his eyes down.  “Are you saying that you would prefer me to cherish more than that?”_

_Khadgar’s eyes blurred slightly.  He thought it was from the lump on the back of his head that throbbed still.  He wasn’t hurting nearly as much as he had been, though it had been quite obvious at the time that the bookshelf had won the argument of which of them would occupy the space.  Perhaps it was that same lump on the back of his head that caused him to open his mouth and before he could stop himself, before he realized the words were pouring out him, he was confessing that he had started wanting more than just tutelage, more than the friendly gestures and praise, more than he had any right to want._

_Horrified, he tried to stand up, tried to flee back to his own room.  He could be packed and gone before the Magus could get angry if he managed to do so now and… and…_

_“Stop.”_

_Khadgar froze, the command in the voice making him cringe.  The cushion he sat on shifted again, and there was a hand brushing his cheek, gently brushing the lock of hair from his face.  “You feel that strongly?”_

_Khadgar closed his eyes, and nodded miserably, expecting that he would be sent away. How could he learn whatever it was Medivh had to teach him if his feelings got in the way?  He expected the mercurial mage to pat his shoulder and leave.  He did_ not _expect the hand against his cheek to turn his head.  “Look at me, Khadgar.”_

_He almost winced at being called by his actual name – until overbright blue eyes met green and gold, the older mage searching the younger’s face. Heartbeats passed, and Medivh leaned forward to touch his lips to Khadgar’s.  “I thought I was inappropriate to care so deeply for my apprentice.  Little did I know my apprentice cared so deeply for me in return.”  He kissed him again, and Khadgar returned it this time, hesitantly, clumsily, still half afraid this was a dream, and he would wake with his head pillowed on a book and his back aching.  “No more secrets then, Young Trust.  It’s in the open.  Tell me this is not what you want – and I will stop. Be silent, and I will be unable to stop myself from…”_

_Heartbeats passed. Khadgar’s eyes widened.  Medivh’s expression faltered and he started to pull his hand away, only for Khadgar’s to reach up and capture it.  The younger mage leaned forward, free arm moving around Medivh’s shoulders, boldly as he feather-touched his lips to the knuckles of the hand in his. “It is what I want. Please._ Please _Master—“_

_“Medivh.”_

_“Please Medivh. I do want this. It is what I want, and I’ve wanted it so much for so long and I was afraid to say anything because I thought you would send me away and I would not only have been a disgrace to the Kirin Tor but to you – I’m your first apprentice in—“_

_“Only apprentice. In ever.”_

_The words shot through Khadgar’s aching skull and into his heart.  He leaned forward, only half-realizing he was doing so, and his lips were on Medivh’s, young bold overconfidence and hormones warring with the swelling in his chest, and it was all he could do to keep himself from exploding from it all._

_Khadgar didn’t remember laying back, or Medivh putting him there. He didn’t remember wrapping his legs around the older mage as his body rocked upwards in stress-induced lust reaction. He didn’t remember the hand stroking him, the mewling noises he made as he begged for something he couldn’t articulate. At least, he didn’t remember until it all came crashing down as he arched, moaning Medivh’s name brokenly._

_The exploration that followed as clothing came off, piece by piece, lips, tongue and fingertips taking in every inch of skin; the softness of youth, the firmness of experience, the smoothness of sheltering, the scars of battle.  The words of confession, instruction, need, want, desire…_

“Khadgar?” Medivh’s hand waved across the Archmage’s eyes, and his expression was amused.  “Lost in memory, are we?”

“A memory that is quite perilously close to being repeated,” the Archmage replied.

“You aren’t going to blow up my library are you?”

“No, but if I don’t get this robe off, it will need cleaning.”

Medivh hissed a swift intake of breath and reached a hand down, running his palm over cloth, leather and… “Yes, I see.  And you tell me you have been celibate since our last night?”

Khadgar resisted the urge to push Medivh’s hand away, biting his lip instead. “Yes,” he half-whispered, half-moaned.

“You know you didn’t need to—“

“I didn’t want anyone else. I don’t want anyone else. I _never will_ want anyone else,” Khadgar replied fiercely.  “I want _you_.  Now more than ever.”

Medivh pulled away, and Khadgar stumbled forward a little at the loss.  “Come, then, Young Trust.” He picked up Atiesh and put it into Khadgar’s hand.  “Lead us to where I first heard you cry my name in ecstasy.”

Khadgar’s knees nearly buckled from under him, and he leaned on Atiesh to keep him upright.  Keeping an eye on Medivh as though if he turned his back, the Magus would vanish back into the tower’s shadows, he moved along a row of shelves, to the stairs that lead to the little sitting room.  Surprisingly, this room seemed to be untouched by time, the lamps still glowing softly, tinging everything in warm sunset colors.

Atiesh’s light went out as it landed against an armchair, and Khadgar’s shoulderguards and mantle hit the floor. Medivh’s hands were far less hesitant than they had been the first time they had been in this room, and Khadgar made short work of the former Guardian’s cloak, letting it pool in crimson and ebony beside his own gear.

It was hard to tell who lead as desperate kisses landed on exposed skin as it was exposed, and boots, shirts, robes and pants fell to the ground in rapid succession, followed quickly by smalls and stockings.

Khadgar found himself pressed against the cushions as Medivh covered his body with his own, one hand trailing languidly down the Archmage’s side, tracing battle scars and lamenting to himself that his Young Trust had grown up, while at the same time, pride bursting within his heart.  His lips trailed across Khadgar’s collarbone as the younger mage arched upwards.

“Patience, Young Trust.”

“But—“

“No “buts”. I want to hear my name echoing off the walls of this tower in your voice as I send you into the abyss.”  Khadgar moaned pleadingly.  Medivh laughed softly.  “That will teach you to stay celibate for thirty years, now won’t it?”

Khadgar growled and tried to move up to return the caresses.  Blue light flashed and his hands were caught up in thin bands of arcane power, raised over his head and bound together.  “I could not do this to you when you were younger, but I can now, Khadgar.  Let me explore you again. I have missed a great many stories that have been carved into your body.”

Khadgar’s breath hitched and he relaxed his arms. “But—“

“What did I tell you about that?  Don’t worry; I won’t let you get too far too fast.” Medivh teased his lips across one nipple and Khadgar arched again, then squirmed when the sensitive skin was bitten softly.  “That is, unless you think you have the stamina to go more than one round with me,” he murmured against the Archmage’s ear.

“I-I think so?” Khadgar murmured.  “I-I wouldn’t know.”

“You aren’t driven completely mad by a touch,” Medivh mused. “You have found some release over the years.”

Khadgar’s eyes flared blue. “Magic. What else?”

“Truth, Young Trust.”

Khadgar blushed, though the glow did not leave his eyes. “Dreams, Master,” he murmured, softly. “I would wake in sore need of a bath, but… it was something. Enough to keep me sane.”

“And the rest of the time you threw yourself into your work so far that magic was enough.” Medivh bit down on the other nipple.

“A-ah! Yes!” Khadgar answered.

“Do they mix?” Fingers pinched the abused nipple.

“M-Mix?” Khadgar’s mind concentrated on the question; a clever distraction.

“Have you ever felt it overwhelm you that you _must_ cast, or … retreat and relieve it in this way?”  A palm brushed over Khadgar’s cock, and the mage jumped, shuddering.

“Experimentation,” Khadgar said shortly. “Creation of spells, research, refinement. Oh please don’t stop… I—“

“So you used magic in the end.  Use both now.” Fingers curled around the shaft and began stroking slowly, Medivh’s free hand pressed firmly against Khadgar’s hip so he couldn’t move.

“Both?” Khadgar’s mind reeled.  Runes danced through his mind, and he could come up with few spells that didn’t involve movement or destruction or…

“Create a rose, Khadgar.” Medivh’s tone was the same he had used so many years ago, when after a night of indulging in some very fine wine, he had ordered a rather tipsy apprentice to levitate his mug.

Khadgar’s eyes brightened, and runes danced in ribbons around his hands, slowly curling to begin forming a rose.  Medivh’s hand sped up.  The ribbons tattered.

“Concentrate.”

“Medivh... I…” Khadgar whimpered, his cheeks coloring to find that he could still make that noise at his age.  He concentrated and the ribbons reformed, and the stem formed, then the bud of the rose, petals curling in from the outside.

As he concentrated on the rose, he did not realize that Medivh had moved.  He felt the tongue swiping his slit and the rose burst into motes. “O-Oh!”

Medivh leaned up and looked at Khadgar, one eyebrow raised slightly.  “Until you can create a rose and keep it stable enough to be permanent, I’m not going to give you release.”  Khadgar’s cock twitched and he felt the drip of precome slide down the head and along the shaft before a deft tongue caught it. “Now, try again, Young Trust,” he breathed against the sensitive head.

With another whimper, the ribbons formed again.  Medivh’s tongue lathed against the underside of Khadgar’s shaft.  The stem formed. The deft tongue brushed along the slit.  The bud formed. A kiss was pressed and sucked at the head.  One by one, the petals formed, curling one over another around the bud.  Khadgar felt the engulfing heat slid upwards along his shaft as Medivh took him in. A petal, then two disintegrated.  The heat vanished.

“You’re so close, Khadgar,” Medivh breathed.  He couldn’t have spoken more truth. Khadgar’s mind may have been on the formation of each petal, but his body was screaming, aching, wanting, and he couldn’t ignore it much longer.  He formed the petals, and the rose solidified a little.  “Turn it the color of your desire.”  The rose turned a rich blood red, and leaves and thorns burst from the stem as his toes curled and his legs trembled.

“M-Medivh… Please. _Please!_ I can’t… I _can’t_ —“ The rose fell from his fingers and caught between his bound wrists.

Medivh watched as the magic spurred his lover on. “I’m not even touching you, Khadgar.  Turn it pink for me – the color of the blush against your chest.”

The rose paled, slowly.  Medivh’s hand curled around Khadgar’s shaft again, and began stroking quickly, his fingers tightening.  Khadgar arched.

“White,” Medivh ordered.

Khadgar’s eyes flashed. The rose went from pink to white instantly, and in that instant he arched further, his body having had _enough_. “Medivh. Master. Please. I can’t.. I can’t… I’m – I’m…” The words tumbled from his lips and Medivh watched him come undone, arching, legs trembling as he squeezed gently. But still he did not – could not release.

“Do you see what I mean?” Medivh asked, calmly, noting that his lover’s eyes glowed blue as they watched him, waiting, begging for permission.  Khadgar nodded, slowly, and the rose began to disintegrate again, the ribbons of magic falling from it as the runes danced across his vision.  “Then, my Young Trust, come for me.”

The words were hardly out in the open before the rose exploded into motes, bathing the room in a blue-violet glow as the voice Medivh had longed to hear cried out, repeating his name over and over again as thirty years of pent up need were finally, finally released.

Medivh continued to stroke Khadgar through his orgasm, through the aftershocks that came after, and then finally let him go.  Khadgar’s chest rose and fell swiftly as he tried to catch his breath.  The bands holding his wrists had disintegrated with the rose, and Khadgar brought his arms down, reaching for his mentor longingly.

Ignoring his own intense arousal, Medivh moved to pull Khadgar into his arms and held him.  “Feel a bit better?” Khadgar nodded.  “Did that take the edge off, or have you aged to where you need more than a few moments?”

Khadgar snorted in amusement. “I can still keep up with you, Master.”

“Medivh.”

“Master Medivh.” Khadgar leaned up to touch is lips to the other mage’s, opening his mouth and inviting his beloved in, effectively silencing any further chastising.

For now.


	2. Momentarily

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'ed... Just like the first one I'll get around to it.. but for now...  
> Bring a towel. You'll probably need one.

He didn’t think the kiss would keep his mentor silent for long, not when it was obvious that… Wait a moment…

Khadgar pulled away from the kiss just enough to ask, “How… H... I mean… Have _you_ kept in practice?”

Medivh pulled back just enough to look his former apprentice in the eye. “The same way you have. I just had more… experience… before… before I lost you.”

Khadgar blushed. He hadn’t thought of that possibility. Not then, not now.  “I see,” he said quietly. “And so you had better – ah – control over the reaction.”

Medivh chuckled and leaned down to kiss Khadgar’s forehead. “Stop thinking, Young Trust. Put your mind to rest for a while.  At least until I tell you to stop.”

Khadgar chuckled right back. “With all due respect, _Master_ , your teachings revolved around my keeping my mind turning at all times.”  He shifted so he could glide a fingertip, tinged blue with a touch of power, down Medivh’s side, eliciting a gasp.  “As such, being older now, I also have … ideas.”  He maneuvered a leg between the older mage’s and pressed his thigh upwards.

“Ideas,” Medivh said breathlessly, gasping at the contact.

Khadgar grinned, a feral smile that reached his eyes and tinged them slightly darker, pupils dilated slightly. “Ideas. Dreams, fantasies, and I’ve had thirty years to have them – and they began before I even stopped mourning.”

“Show me.” The words were whispered, but Medivh’s commanding tone said volumes as his own eyes widened, and he tried to pull away from the contact between his thighs.  Khadgar held him in place with one arm, preventing the older mage from moving.

“Your wish is my command,” Khadgar replied, lightly.  His eyes lit as runed ribbons danced from his fingertips, brushing against the former Guardian’s skin.  Sparks flew where they touched, arcing from fingertip to skin and back like miniature lightning.  “I found this by mistake,” he said quietly. “Awaking from a dream, in fact.  My hands were glowing, and I … I was…” He blushed darkly as he looked up in to Medivh’s eyes again.  He drew a deep breath, and continued, his voice a little stronger, but no less soft. “I was hard as iron.  It was dark, and it was a hot night.  My windows were open, and I was blessedly hot in more ways than one.  I had kicked my blankets to the floor, my pillow was clenched in one hand, my other across my stomach.”  He trailed the ribbons along Medivh’s stomach, noting the jump of the muscles beneath the skin, and he splayed his hand just enough so the other three fingers and his thumb joined the first in their teasing, the ribbons tendriling out, upwards to Medivh’s chest, downwards towards his hips.  He released Medivh, and carefully slid out from underneath him, inviting the older mage to take his place.

Medivh moved, his curiosity as aroused as his body, now.  Khadgar’s hand followed his movements to keep the tendrils of ribbon dancing their sparks against his skin as he continued while the Magus settled.

“I had a choice,” Khadgar murmured. “I could begin my day long before dawn with a cold bath, or… or I could act.  I had long since decided I didn’t want another’s hands touching me, nor did I want my hands on anyone else… but the dream, Medivh… the dream…” he trailed off, curling his hand into a fist as the ribbons faded into tatters, and then motes.  “I was beneath you.  Your hands were in mine, and you were buried within me.” Medivh gasped and his cock twitched.  He reached up, cupping Khadgar’s cheek, just looking for some kind of contact, even as Khadgar settled to straddle his legs and settled there – out of reach, the older mage noted, for them to … touch. “You were so far gone,” Khadgar continued, his voice a low purr now, “calling my name, the way that only you can.  I begged you. I pleaded with you. I wanted to _feel_ you.  I wanted to feel you so it would trigger my release – the way it always did.  Your heat, your force, the way you moved when you couldn’t stop it from coming…”  Khadgar licked his lips again.  “It was thunder that woke me.”

His hand opened again, and tiny arcane bolts, like lightning, danced across Medivh’s skin.  “I woke trembling, whispering your name, over and over again, as though I could call the dream back so I…” He had to pause to pull himself back under control, noting that his hips had begun to rock restlessly, and Medivh could both see and feel his earlier “fear” had been unfounded.

“I was desperate,” Khadgar continued.  “But I would not finish it myself. I could not bring myself to. But… that did not mean my magic could not.” The ribbons formed from the lightning, and curled around the Magus’ cock; a formless, pulsing Presence.

Medivh arched. “You have indeed come a long way, Young Trust,” he grated out.  “Is this what you had done then?”

“No,” whispered Khadgar, leaning down to brush his lips against Medivh’s.  The ribbons merged into a single one, taking on the size and shape of a palm, and began to stroke Medivh. Slowly. Very slowly. “I did this instead.  The way you did as I begged you to _finish_ me the last time we were together.  But…” He sped the “palm” up a bit. “I couldn’t control it. Not then.  I couldn’t keep it solid enough, not like now. Like that rose… it burst into motes as soon as I was just starting to go over the edge – and I _couldn’t_. I’m quite sure that my desk didn’t deserve the treatment it got that morning, and I’m more than sure that my wardrobe was never the same.”

“You didn’t—“

“No.”

Medivh looked up at his former apprentice with sadness and a kind of pity in his eyes.  “How long ago?” he asked, breathlessly.

“After I returned from Outland, back to Dalaran, before it was moved to Crystalsong.”  Khadgar sighed, softly, letting his created “palm” speed up again, then pulled it away to trail down one of Medivh’s thighs.  “It wasn’t the only time.  Most of the time, I would wake with your name on my lips and … well. A need for a bath and to change my linens.  At least twice a week.”

Medivh couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped after his gasp as the arcane creation shifted into fingertips once again, trailing along his thigh, and then to tease lightly at his perineum. “At least one thing hasn’t changed, Young Trust.  You were insatiable in your youth, and I assume you still are?”

“Terribly.”  Khadgar blushed again as he leaned down to whisper against Medivh’s ear. “And I am hoping that before I lose you again, you drain me dry, and keep going… or tease me until I simply explode. I want to experiment with all the things we promised each other, back then. I want time to stop, crises to stop, and I want to learn what I should have had a chance to learn before that demonic _bastard_ took you from me.”

Medivh could not answer other than to moan, his hips lifting.  If nothing else, his Young Trust had turned out to be not so young anymore, but had grown into the confidence he had seen in the past. Had they not been forced apart the way they had been, this is what he would have wanted as a partner.

“And you’re going to turn those tables on me, aren’t you, Young Trust?” he finally asked, his hips lifting to offer the arcane fingertips more access. Khadgar ran his physical hand down Medivh’s other thigh, banishing the arcane creation once he reached the spot it was teasing, brushing his fingertips over the curvature of one of the older mage’s balls, firm and tight in its slight swell. “Tell me you want to do all of those things to me as well.”

“All of those things, and more. Ideas, remember. Dreams. Dreams where your thrusts were slow and infuriating. Dreams where they were so hard I could almost feel the bruises when I woke. I wanted to see the evidence of every bite, every spot you sucked the blood to the skin, the hands on my hips and…“ He stopped talking, closing his eyes and shuddering.

“You’ve very nearly talked yourself into release,” Medivh murmured in awe, momentarily forgetting where Khadgar’s hands were.

It took a moment for Khadgar to pull himself back under control.  “Memories,” he murmured absently, brushing a fingertip against the tight ring of muscle behind the perineum.

“In your dreams, did you ever take me?” Medivh asked.

“Never.”

“And yet your hand…” Medivh lifted an eyebrow in inquiry.

“Curiosity, as always.”

“Curiosity,” Medivh repeated, then shifted his legs apart, pulling Khadgar closer to him as he did so. “Good enough as an excuse.  Explore. Stretch that muscle.”  Khadgar looked down at Medivh, surprised.

“What?”

“I want you to fuck me, Khadgar,” Medivh said heatedly.  “I want to know what it’s like to feel you – and your magic – fill me.”

Khadgar’s hand stilled, the Archmage biting his lip hard enough to draw blood as he fought his body back under control. “Medivh,” he whimpered softly. “You can’t—“

“I can, and I do mean it.  But calm yourself a bit first… As you are you may explode before you manage to seat yourself.” Medivh chuckled softly.  “Breathe, slowly. Empty your mind.”

Khadgar did breathe, slowly. But he couldn’t keep the stray thought of _I would prefer to empty other things right now_ out of his mind.  He closed his eyes, and the images that flooded his mind’s eye forced them open again, his breathing shuddering.  In. Out. Pause. In. Out. Pause. After several long moments, he let his hand press again at the tight ring of muscle, trying to remember how Medivh had done this to him, that first night; the only night the older mage had taken his time in teasing at the muscles to convince them to loosen, to calm the young apprentice through nerves and the fear that accompanies a first time doing something new.

A burst of violet light distracted him, and Khadgar looked up.  Medivh held out his hand, a vial in it. “This may also help,” he said quietly.  “Sparingly though – it’s meant more for you than it is me.”

Khadgar took the vial, shifting to free both his hands to work the stopper out. “What do you mean?” he asked softly.

“Mageroyal, dear boy. Mageroyal and Kingsblood.”  The knowing smirk that graced the older mage’s lips as Khadgar turned very interesting shades of red and purple was almost infuriating.

“I… I can’t,” Khadgar whispered. “I.. It would overwhelm—“

“I know.”

“But I’ve not—“

“I know.”

Khadgar swallowed, nervously. “But—“

“What have I told you about that word?  Your name, Young Trust. Believe in it as I do.  You can keep yourself together. I have faith in it, and in you.”

Khadgar had no answer that he could give verbally, but instead finished pulling the stopper out of the vial, and trickled a bit of the oil infusion onto his fingers, rubbing his thumb against his fore and middle fingers to spread it before moving his hand back down.  With almost a too-light feather touch, he applied a bit of the oil to the muscle, which twitched under the questing, hesitant touch.

His mind whirled as he worked, his mind supplying the side-effects that were often ignored in the practical uses of the herbs.  Mageroyal – a powerful painkiller with no narcotic side effects; the only side effect being a bout of intense arousal that tended to fade after a day or two.  Kingsblood – a less potent painkiller, but a very good numbing agent and anesthetic applied topically, with the side effect of intense arousal – that would not be denied.  Other herbs lessened or cancelled these effects, particularly when infused or brewed with Liferoot or Golden Sansam, though when combined with Dreamleaf could render the drinker of such an infusion unconscious, making certain surgeries possible.

Khadgar circled the ring as his mind worked, using the almost textbook-precision of his thoughts to keep himself calm.  With a deep breath, his eyes watching his mentor’s face, he slid the tip of his forefinger past the muscle, carefully, slowly.  He was rewarded with a soft gasp, but from the expression, it was not from pain.  He slid the finger in a little further, and Medivh’s eyes closed.

“Good,” Medivh murmured encouragingly. “Very good.  Not too fast.  Not too slow, though, or I may lose my own patience.”

“If I do this any faster I may not make it,” Khadgar murmured, his voice trembling.

“Are you afraid?”

“No, I’m not afraid.”

“… Do you want this? Are you sure you want this?”

Khadgar slid his middle finger in with the first without preamble or warning. “ _Yes,_ ” he replied fiercely as Medivh gasped and his hips lifted, one leg shifting further aside.  “I’ve wanted, but never even dared to dream about what it would be like to.. to…” He stopped abruptly to take a few deep breaths.  “Let me concentrate,” he pleaded softly. “I’m… too close to losing control.”

“I could help you keep control,” Medivh offered softly.  “I could bind you so that you can get no further than…” he pointedly looked down at Khadgar’s cock, dripping steadily against his thigh.  “I can help you hold back.”

Khadgar moaned, and his fingers stilled once again. “I… I think I’m all right.”

“If you are not—“

“I will let you know.”

Khadgar spread his fingers apart, working them slowly in and out, slowly, gently, stretching the muscle around them.  He tugged gently at various angles, massaging the muscle carefully as he worked.  He put all of his concentration into memories of anatomy books, the way musculature worked, the way this particular set of muscles worked.

It didn’t help much.

Khadgar was panting by the time he felt the muscles give a little, and he couldn’t keep still.  Medivh had done nothing to ease the constant shifting of his weight, nor had he commented, instead letting his apprentice concentrate.

It was the whimper of pure need that caused him to speak, softly. “Khadgar?”  The younger mage shook his head emphatically, and continued to work.

It was nearly too much. The memories of knowing what his fingers were doing – the memory of similar fingers against his skin, teasing, soothing, easing – that were driving him mad. _Regarded as the most powerful mage on Azeroth and I can’t keep a rein on my own body. Pathetic._ He ached, and even the minute shifts in his weight trying to relieve it weren’t helping.

“Khadgar?” Medivh tried again, a little more firmly.  One hand reached up, and, shifting his balance, Khadgar’s free hand shot out to grab Medivh’s wrist.

“Don’t!” he cried, his voice cracking.  He gasped sharply, realizing the contact between them was sparking along his nerves, and he continued speaking, unknowing that words flowed from him.  “No- No, don’t you dare!” His eyes closed and his hand tightened around Medivh’s wrist. His body trembled for a moment, before he managed to wrestle some kind of control back.

Medivh watched, eyes wide. _Did he just... so nearly… just from…_ A wicked glint formed in his eyes and he shifted very slightly under the pretense of getting more comfortable.

“Your body will win, eventually, Khadgar. Unless your will is stronger. Let me help.”

“No.” Khadgar’s voice trembled as much as his watery limbs did.

“You’re too close, let me help you.”

“ _No!_ ” Khadgar insisted. “Please.. please just let me—“

His own words made his condition worse, and he bit his lip, hard, and released Medivh’s wrist with effort.  The fire along his nerves was more than too much, and he willed his body to stop feeling.  He returned his concentration to stretching Medivh again.

“Remarkable,” Medivh murmured, unaware he was speaking his thoughts aloud. “Nearly past the point of no return, on the razor’s edge, and you continue to fight it.”  He looked up as he let his arm fall, realizing his voice still echoed in his ears. “But oh to cross the line.  To let your memories or your own touches on me, my voice, your own…”

“Stop it,” Khadgar begged, sliding his ring finger into Medivh to join the first two.  “If you don’t stop… if you don’t let me concentrate…”

“Then you’ll burst.”  Medivh lowered his own voice to a purr.  “Maybe I want to watch you do just that.”

Khadgar stopped moving, and closed his eyes and bit nearly through his lip, shaking his head.  “No,” he murmured, pleadingly, clearly speaking to himself.  “Not like this.. not until… Not … not…”

“Not to the sound of my voice? Not while you prepare me so you can fuck me properly – though, you said yourself you never dreamed—“

“Medivh please… I can’t—“

“I know. And it’s beautiful.”

Khadgar’s free hand was a white-knuckled fist against Medivh’s hip. His other had paused, three-fingers deep into Medivh.  His back was arching.

Medivh’s cock twitched at the sight.  “I take back what I said earlier.  This is hotter than I could have imagined it to be.”

“Stop—“

“No. I won’t stop.  I want to see how far this goes.” Medivh’s eyes moved to the steady drip landing on his thigh.  “The battle is beautiful.  And whether you win or lose, we both win, and whether you win or lose, I know you’re going to pay me back for every bit of this by fucking me senseless – that which you never dared to dream of, and yet you _will_ do.”

Khadgar whimpered again, and he arched further, his cock twitching and darkening.  He squirmed, trying to find a position where it wasn’t so painfully heavy. But there was no contact to shy away from. There was nothing he could pull back from that wouldn’t stop the sensations along his nerves.  “M-Medivh,” he pleaded, his voice sounding pitiful and pathetic in his own ears – something that may have been acceptable thirty years ago, but not now. Not _now._

“Yes, Young Trust?” Medivh answered softly.

“I-I-I can’t.. It’s…”

“Do you want to stop it, or do you want to let go?”

“ _Yes! No!_ I don’t know… I just.. I can’t – it’s too much.”

“Stop thinking, then. Stop trying.”

“No,” Khadgar whispered, brokenly.

“Yes,” Medivh whispered back. “Oh, _Khadgar_ if only I’d known I could do this with just what was in your own mind, my voice and letting you finger me.”

Khadgar made a broken noise as his cock twitched again.  He was dancing on the razor’s edge and he wanted to fight it back, wanted to continue stretching his mentor so he could… So he could… That thought alone started him tipping over the edge. His breath hitched and he whispered “No- No!” over and over.

“Yes,” Medivh hissed. “That’s it. You’re there. You’re _there_ and now you can’t stop. I can’t tell you how beautiful it is, how beautiful you are and perhaps if I just … Look at me, Khadgar. Look at me. _Now._ ” Khadgar’s eyes opened and his head turned just enough for their eyes to meet. “Come for me, Khadgar. Come for me, and me alone, my Young Trust.”

Khadgar’s voice protested. Khadgar’s body obeyed.  He arched, then curled over, trying to deny, to hide, something, anything, even as his fingers pressed deeply into Medivh and struck something that caused the Magus to arch upwards and for an instant, they came into contact, Medivh’s thigh against Khadgar’s cock, even as the Archmage was coming, and the stimulation was too much.  Khadgar jerked backwards, breaking all contact other than the hand still buried in the former Guardian.

“Oh _Light_ ,” Khadgar whispered, still trembling, still looking Medivh in the eyes.  As he caught his breath, his eyes flashed, dangerously.  “And you were right,” he murmured, still slightly out of breath. “I will pay you back.”

He withdrew his fingers, and dripped a few drops of the lubricant onto the tip of Medivh’s cock, then gently massaged it into the skin.

“Khadgar, what are you doing?” Medivh cried in shock.

“Mageroyal. Kingsblood.  You knew what it would do to _me_ when I finally used it and when I came into contact with you when I seated.  So I’m turning the tables, Master.  You’ve seen me come completely undone twice now.  And now I want to watch you fall the same way.  The way I never dared to dream. For all your power, for all your control, I want to see you lose it all.  Under my hands. With _my_ voice.”

As he spoke, he worked the lubricant onto his own cock, carefully stoppering the vial and laying it aside on a table that may or may not have been there before Khadgar reached to place the vial there.  “I may never have done this to another, but I know how it works… And now… I’m not driven mad by need.  At least not for release.” He leaned down to bite Medivh’s ear as he moved to settle himself between the Magus’ legs. “Just need for you.”

He was entirely unprepared for the tingling of the infusion, but was even more unprepared for the tight heat he slid into as he settled between Medivh’s thighs, lined up and pushed forward. He was still oversensitive, and at first it almost hurt, but he pressed on, fraction by fraction, ignoring Medivh’s shifts as he moved.

He had to pause twice to catch his breath, and both times, his mentor protested, but those protests went ignored. Khadgar pressed his hands to Medivh’s shoulders and with one last quick thrust, hilted himself.

And stopped.

“Oh Light I had no idea,” he murmured, breathlessly. “Was this… Is this how…?”

“I always felt?” Medivh replied softly. “Yes. It was so hard, so hard not to lose myself in you. So hard to wait, sometimes.”

Khadgar made a soft noise of acknowledgment, then slid, slowly, back out.  An experimental, slow thrust. Another. A third.  Slow. Steady.

It was Medivh’s turn to writhe under the steady movements, (and under the influence of two powerful aphrodisiacs) and Khadgar reveled in it.  His hand, still damp from the lubricant, curled around Medivh’s cock and began to stroke, matching his movements.  He could feel the older mage trembling in his hands, around his cock, and could feel the heat of those green eyes on him as he moved.

Oh, it was intoxicating. More intoxicating than any fine wine he’d ever had, more so than that stuff the orcs had come up with – firewater, if he was correct – the stuff that burned all the way down and warmed in the pit of his belly like the way his body felt just before he unleashed a Pyroblast.

He couldn’t stay at this pace forever. His body, spent twice already, would not allow for it. He was more than ready to come again, and he was determined that he would _not_ , until he had driven Medivh past the point of speech, to silence that beautiful commanding voice into the tiny noises of need, want, desire and—

Oh he needed to stop thinking about _that_ right _now._

Instead he concentrated on watching Medivh, the way those green eyes had once watched him for signs of discomfort, for signs of needing it to stop.

There were none.  Medivh’s arms had lifted and pulled Khadgar against him, arching and bending until he could hold his apprentice close and still let the younger mage work his magics on his body.

Khadgar couldn’t keep the slow pace.  He sped up, and Medivh held him tighter.  As soon as he felt he could keep himself under control, he whispered against Medivh’s ear. “I may not have dreamed of doing this, Master, but I had thought about it. I wondered. You know my curiosity.  You could undo me with a look, a touch, a promise of things to come. Distractions for my spell casting, distractions from my studies until nothing could shake me.  But I let them in. I let it all in.  Is this the kind of training you had, I wondered, since nothing could shake you? Is this the reason that the oaths are so strict?  What could possibly have given you reason to break them for me?

“And now I know. I know, because I feel it. I have you, trembling beneath me, after all those times you had me beneath you, and now I know.”

He didn’t realize his eyes were beginning to glow – and it was something he had been warned of, so many years before he stood before the tower of Karazhan, the reason he remained so celibate until he was within these walls.

“Then you also know,” Medivh replied with difficulty, “the dangers.”

“To the lowest hells with the dangers.”

“Khadgar.” The word was mean to be sharp, but a particularly powerful thrust made it much less so, even as the younger mage sped his pace up, and his eyes brightened.  “This.. this is why I would never let you – not until you could control…”

“The power that I can feel now? I can feel it. And I want it there. I want to know what it’s like at least once.”

“I did too. I destroyed my study. Alone.”

Khadgar sped up again, his pace becoming less structured and more chaotic. “I will keep it under control.”

“How?”

“I _have_ to,” Khadgar replied, breathless, his voice breaking.  “I will not hurt anyone, nor will I cause destruction where none is warranted.  I have to—“ He slowed his thrusts, straining muscles slowing from their growing frantic pace. “Keep control. Of that. At least. If nothing else.”

Medivh reached up and pulled Khadgar down to kiss him, hard.  He longed to reverse their positions, to have his apprentice mewling beneath him as he had so many years ago, to watch as those glowing eyes and the murmuring culminated in…

“Medivh,” Khadgar whispered as he pulled back from the kiss, his eyes sparkling with arcane motes.  “It … it is controllable.  Isn’t it?”

“Now you ask questions, after you’ve begun. Well, that always was your way.” He tried to work a hand between them, but Khadgar reached down and pinned the wrist to the older mage’s side. “Yes, it is, but it is difficult. But you, my apprenti—No. My successor. You can, easy as breathing.  You can feel it singing in your veins, with every heartbeat.  Just beware when it pools, when it sparks.  It will take your control from you at your most vulnerable, if you let it.”

Khadgar pulled back a little, shifting one leg so he sank deeper with every thrust, and Medivh arched sharply. “Oh _LIGHT_ , is that why you…?”

Khadgar smirked slightly and continued to hit that spot. “Yes,” he replied softly. “And this,” he hit it again a little harder, then shifted his position to slide over it every time he moved, “is why I _wanted_ it.”

Medivh’s hands curled into fists around sections of the cushions beneath them.  “Don’t stop,” he pleaded, surprising himself with just how much he had sounded like Khadgar so many years ago.

“No intention.” Instead, Khadgar sped up again, letting his body do what it so longed to do.  His eyes drank in the sight beneath him, the way Medivh arched, trying hard to find a way for Khadgar’s hand to move faster, tighten. Something.

“Please… I’m.. I need to… This is _maddening_!”

“It… always… was…” Khadgar breathed, his hand tightening just a little, then sped up to match his frantic thrusts.  “And you always… Always… Oh _Light_ … I can’t…” _But I must…_

“Almost,” Medivh hissed.  “Just… Just a little…”

The sight of the Magus unraveling was nearly too much. Khadgar bit his lip to stay silent, and to ground himself as he watched and felt the older mage’s hips bucking upwards against his hand, and he let his hand follow it, wanting to watch it happen. Wanted to watch the end.

Medivh didn’t scream, but the strangled noise he made tried Khadgar’s patience to the utmost.  Perhaps the older mage had more control, but thirty years still took its toll.  The strangled noise resolved into Khadgar’s name, moaned darkly into the silence as he finally found release.

Khadgar’s control disintegrated.  Still stroking his former master, his thrusts sped up once more until he could feel the heat pooling, the pressures building, and the arcane pulsed in his veins to the beat of his racing heart.

He knew he should withdraw. Now. Before something horrible happened.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop what was coming, even as his lips betrayed him by moving in an incantation he couldn’t identify and couldn’t stop himself from casting – and Medivh lay beneath him, green eyes wide as he watched, unable to reach a hand up to stop him.

The world went grey, and then exploded in violet and blue light, and he could feel himself coming, harder than he had in the past hour, harder than he had ever in his memory.

And then knew nothing more.


	3. Mediation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst. Lots of Angst. Confessions. Souls laid bare, and stream-of-consciousness writing that I'm sure I'll hate when I read it again later.  
> The ending of this chapter is dedicated to Callina - it was too good NOT to do. <3

“Ngh…” Khadgar’s throat hurt.  He swallowed, then again.  He was vaguely aware of someone stroking his hair.  His head lifted slightly from where it lay, and found himself looking into Medivh’s eyes.  Medivh’s amused, but concerned eyes.

Shreds of memory started to come back to him, little by little, and he suddenly jerked upward with a gasp. “What did—“ he coughed, his mouth and throat dry. Again.

“Look around you,” Medivh’s answer came, softly, in the darkness.

No, not darkness.  The study danced with light. Motes of it. Like fireflies, blue and violet and green and gold, the little lights danced, blinked, winked around them.  Atiesh glowed faintly blue where it still lay against the armchair, pulsing slightly.  After watching it for a few moments, he realized it was pulsing in time with his heart.

“Master, what did I do?” Khadgar whispered.

He sounded so much like his younger self that Medivh laughed, softly.  It had been rare, that laugh – so carefree and happy.  “The short version is, well, you exploded.”  He shifted to pull Khadgar closer, and a gentle hand pushed the Archmage’s head back down to rest against his shoulder.

Khadgar let his head be moved, and shifted so he could cuddle better.  They were clean, which spoke to him volumes about how long he had been unconscious, and he half expected to wake bent over the table, drooling on the book or his notes.  Perhaps this wasn’t a fever dream after all. Not when he could still feel the tingling of…

Oh FEL not again…

Medivh laughed again, cradling the other mage and kissing the top of his head. “Insatiable,” he teased softly.  “The long version, then… before we… resume.” He cleared his throat, and sat up just a little, pulling Khadgar with him, so they were lounging instead of laying.  He moved a hand over the table, and two mugs appeared next to the vial Khadgar had put there.  He handed one to the Archmage. “Here. We should stay hydrated.”  He took the other, and managed to sip from it without dislodging Khadgar.  “Now. Has anyone ever explained why the Guardian tends to stay celibate – vows or no vows?”

“No. I had assumed it was a newer thing, because of what your mother did.”

“No, it has gone back centuries.  Mages are vulnerable, at their most vulnerable at two times, and why no one but us has figured this out I won’t ever understand.” Medivh sighed.  “If you truly want to destroy a mage, there are two times you can do so without them being able to so much as raise their voice to defend themselves.  One of those times, is in the privy.  But then, nearly everyone is at the same state there. Our bodies make us weak and focus more on the removal of toxins and other such during that time.  It is the same for all creatures, from the most intelligent of races right down to the very simple creatures we once originated from.” He paused to sip from his mug.  It was a light wine, this time, not just spring water.  Light, fruity, sweet, with just enough alcohol to call it wine and not juice.  He stole a glance at Khadgar, who lay curled against him, and this could have been thirty years ago, Medivh giving a lecture, Khadgar curled up against him in sweet intimacy, listening with wide eyes and rapt attention, sharing a drink.  He smiled at the sight before continuing.  “But unlike most creatures, a mage is at their most vulnerable in lovemaking.  Some may argue that for all creatures, but we are more susceptible still.  You felt yourself the song of power, and even the first time I watched you, I could feel it radiate – but you didn’t consciously cast either.  This time,” he waved his hand at the motes still dancing around them, “you couldn’t help but do so.”

“You didn’t try to stop me…” Khadgar mused softly, then looked up. “Why?”

“I could not.” Medivh sighed. “I couldn’t hear what you were saying, I didn’t know what you were casting. But for you to have to use an incantation meant it was something significant, something larger than combat magic or a swift word of Power to direct.  But I was far too spent to move. I could only watch, and wait.  And trust.” He paused again.  “You could have killed me.  Could have killed us both.  You could have obliterated this very tower and sent it into the Nether… It’s already a conduit there, and its twisted within, and only grows more so because it does not have a custodian to keep it from doing so. Well. Other than me.”

“But—“

“Yes, you have a very nice one, and I’ll get to it eventually, but for now…” He sipped his wine again, then set the mug on the table.  “As you have probably guessed, I can return here whenever I wish. I think I have bound myself tightly enough to this tower, provided it doesn’t destroy itself, that I can stay here until it crumbles to dust.  The tower itself, as you know, is almost sentient.  Even though I drew that power into me and left it a shadow of what it had been so I had the strength to warn the others about what eventually transpired in Hyjal, it… I…”

“You wanted to retire, to finally rest. Didn’t you.”

“I did. But that is neither here nor there at the nonce.” He waved a hand at the dancing sparks.  “I could not stop you from undoing the ravel of reality, if that is what your lust dictated.  So. Now I have a question for you, Young Trust.  What is this?” He picked his mug up from the table again and sipped from it, waiting patiently for Khadgar’s answer.

Khadgar, meanwhile, let the question sink in – and pointedly ignored some of the other things Medivh had said – and also took slow sips of wine, smiling slightly at the memory of another similar evening of discussion over time and then a smashed mug as he lost control of a simple levitation spell.

What was it he had done?  New spells, created on the spot as need dictated were nothing new to him, though some of them had nearly gotten him killed, especially when he stopped and stared at it when it worked.  It wasn’t that long ago that he was nearly washed away in a flood after destroying a dam, after all – and combining the three major schools of magic to do so was reckless and stupid, and he ached, empty and sore after for quite some time, considering he had only a few moments of rest before moving on, and then the battle, and the mass teleportation, the portals... how he had not collapsed still surprised him.  He stared upwards, watching one mote as it passed overhead, blinking slowly into soft blue light, fading, then blinking in violet, fading, then blinking in gold, fading and then repeating the entire cycle.  His eyes moved to another – one with a different pattern: green, gold, blue.  And another, gold, blue, green, violet.

The colors meant something, he was sure of it. His eyes darted to several in succession, trying to figure out the pattern.  The color blue was the exact color his eyes glowed when he cast.  The green was the color of Medivh’s eyes as they lit before turning violet – the same color as the …

And the gold. Gold like sunshine on a summer’s day, warming the soul. Gold like the power of the Light, healing, attacking foes with righteous fire.  He looked closely at the motes again. There was no red among them.  It was not the schools of magic as they were known.  But what did they mean?  The blue, green and violet were obvious to him, but the gold…

“Light above,” Khadgar whispered softly, following one of the motes nearest him, one that pulsed with the pattern of blue, then green, then gold. He had the answer, but though he opened his mouth to speak it, he could not.  His heart felt tight, and began to race.  Atiesh, cradled in the chair across from them mirrored it in its pulsing glow.

“I—“ He looked up at Medivh, trying again and failing. His chest felt tight, and as blue met green, he felt tears well in his eyes.

Medivh was quiet, meeting Khadgar’s eyes and holding them.  A soft smile touched his lips and he looked up at the motes again. “Your answer?” he prompted softly.

His answer was a soft sob.  He gently took the mug from Khadgar’s limp fingers and set it beside his own. So. The spell had something to do with something so deeply suppressed that it was only coming out now, was that it?

He pulled Khadgar closer, one hand gently rubbing his back, the other tracing a pattern on the back of his neck.  “You’ve started that at least twice tonight. And twice you have ruthlessly shoved whatever has brought it down.  Enough.  Enough, Young Trust.  You resent it because of your age, do you?  Do you think others have not wept when the world has been too much to bear?”

Khadgar tried to lift his head, tried to find some way of stopping Medivh from saying those words. He was perilously close – too close, and it hurt, suppressing it. But he could not. Not here. Not like this. Not when his mentor counted on him – called him his successor, not his apprentice any longer.

“Do you think I had not done this, alone, when I knew I was hurting you – when I knew you were looking out for me? Khadgar look at me.”  Khadgar shook his head. Medivh tried again, using his fingers to lift the younger man’s chin. “Look at me.”

His heart ached as he saw the stricken expression, the pain of … more than enough years to have made this all go wrong now.  The overbright eyes, the tears that spilled down the prematurely aged cheeks, catching and following a line of a scar.

“The night you and Anduin came after me, I plead with everything good in the world, from the souls of the passed to the Light. I begged for more time. One more night before the madness. A night to tell you – tell you everything. You trusted me with every bit of yourself, and I’d been keeping what was happening behind my teeth to protect you.”  Medivh paused, looking up at the lights above, then turned his eyes back to Khadgar’s.  “But it was not to be.  You were right. I let you and Anduin close to me so you would be my undoing.  No.  Not _my_ undoing… that monster’s. But still, it resulted in the same thing.  There was so much left to teach you. So much more for us to discover.  I told you that I nearly cried when I killed Moroes and Cook.  At least… _he_ did, if it wasn’t me properly.  I didn’t tell you that I wept myself to sleep before then. I wept, and I tried… I tried so hard to end it all so you wouldn’t have to.  Incantations died on my lips, my tongue dried when I tried to speak, my voice died in my throat.  I tried everything from setting my room aflame to overloading myself with the power around me. And I wept when I knew I could not.” Khadgar swallowed and turned away, unable to meet his master’s eyes. “No, Khadgar. Look at me.” He gently turned the Archmage’s head again and caught and held his eyes.  “And you think I would think less of you, now? You looked me in the eyes when you drove that sword home.  The look on your face was…” He shook his head, took a breath and continued. “You went on to become a commander. You lost friends when you crossed the portal that first time. You returned hardened after being stranded for years… and yet you continued to study, continued to grow. You have followed a destiny you never wanted, but have taken on to yourself nonetheless.  I meant what I said, the last time I saw you.  I can never tell you enough how proud I am of you.  And yet, you are here, trembling by my side, suppressing something that should have been let go years – decades… I could make you forget. Your body wants me to make you forget, but I refuse.  And if I have to keep talking to make you let loose your barriers, I will.”

Khadgar didn’t look away, but as Medivh spoke, more tears had streaked down his face, and the trickle was rapidly becoming a flood.  He closed his eyes tightly, but it didn’t stop it.  Something inside snapped, and he turned to bury his face against Medivh’s shoulder, his arm seeking purchase around the other mage, and felt arms encircle him, propping him up a little so he could lean more comfortably.  He had heard of the term “ugly crying” from many of the women he knew, but had never given it much thought.  This must be what it was like – not letting tears fall to relieve some of the pain, but the awful soul-wrenching sobs that tore from his throat, memories of everything he had been through welling up and spilling out in an uncontrollable storm.  The final stages of mourning for Medivh – the Medivh he had run through with his own hands and a borrowed sword.  Turalyon, Alleria, Anduin, the countless others he had lost over time as those in his charge fell, and fell again. How many of the current champions would he send to their deaths when the true assaults began?

How many had he killed? How much death had he seen?

It didn’t matter.  Right this moment he was warm, he was safe, and he was being held and comforted by the only being he had ever truly loved.  There it was. That admission earned him a more painful bout of sobs, ones that threatened his throat.  He couldn’t take it back now. Medivh had been the one to say the words once. But now, Khadgar could deny it no longer.  His fingertips curled against Medivh’s skin as he clung to sanity itself as he wept.

All the while, the motes danced around them, and Atiesh continued to pulse softly, matching the pounding of his heart.

It may have been hours, days or years when Khadgar found he could not shed any further tears.  His eyes hurt, his nose ached, and he sniffled, sounding much more like his seventeen-year-old self than he cared to admit.  A scrap of linen was placed into his hand as he pulled away from Medivh at last, and he used it to repair what he could of his face.

“Now… would you care to talk about it? Some of it, at least?”

Khadgar took his time in drying his eyes, clearing his nose, and scrubbing at his cheeks before he answered.  “This,” he waved at the motes slowly blinking their patterns around them.  “It is love, Medivh. The only way I knew how to express it.”

Medivh opened his mouth and Khadgar placed a finger to his lips to silence him. “No. Let me finish.  It has been inside me, inside my memories like this for years.  The blue of my eyes, the green of yours, the violet of casting, and the warmth of golden sunlight that only the Light can mimic.  Happiness. I never once told you, in all of our time together that I loved you. But I do. I always have. And I can’t hide that anymore.”

Medivh was shocked into silence as Khadgar continued.  “It started out simple.  I never had a parent figure in my life, not after I went to Dalaran.” He dabbed his eyes again. “My siblings. My parents. When they sent me off, it was an honor.  They had no idea… no idea of the prison it turned out to be.” He looked up at Medivh. “When the Kirin Tor sent me to you – they didn’t send me because you finally acquiesced to an assistant.  They sent me here to die.”

“What?!” Medivh’s arms tightened around Khadgar possessively.

“You know my nature. My insatiable curiosity. I learned things. I didn’t .. I mean they … I knew things they didn’t want me to know.  I was a suitable spy. I would be better off ferreting out your secrets and reporting them all back. If I turned up like the – others – it would be best.  They gave me advice on how not to get myself killed but…”

“They sent you to Karazhan to die.” Medivh’s voice was flat, and held a hint of anger.

“When I returned, they were… less than pleased to see me at first, but seeing as I returned upon revealing you as a demon and having killed you with my own hands and with Anduin’s aid, and solved the mysteries of the deaths that had been occurring, they didn’t dare … I mean they probably wanted to…”

“Turn you out, or lock you up, but as the Guardian presumptive, they didn’t dare.”

Khadgar nodded.

“Your family?”

Khadgar shrugged.  “I never heard from them again.”

Medivh snarled softly. “Go on. There was more.”

“So you were my first father-figure since my instructors.  You didn’t talk at me, or over me, or down to me. You talked _to_ me. You didn’t teach me, you shared with me.  It was gut-reaction. You paid attention to my theories. You encouraged me to think. You encouraged me, period.”  Khadgar sighed, and rubbed his eyes. “And then we fought those orcs after I …”

“Fell off your gryphon.”

“Yes. I expected to die there, you know.”

“But you fought, and you bought the time for me to get to you.”

“And you backed up my bluff, when I had drained my own powers, pathetic as they were then.”

Medivh petted Khadgar’s hair, ruffling it gently into silvery spikes. “I had just as little when I began my own training at that age. More than a fireball and a shield and I just fell over.  Look at what time did to you, my Young Trust.  It was in you all the time.  It just needed experience and _proper_ teaching. You had the theory, the thirst for more knowledge, and when that started to rise, so too did your potential.”

“And you let me thrive on it. You let me be curious. You opened your library to me.” Khadgar chuckled softly. “Little did you know then, that by doing so, you had laid the heavens above at my feet, spread rose petals for my walking, and caused me to bloom like a winter rose as the spring sunlight touches its leaves.”

“Pure poetry,” Medivh smiled. “And this cause you to fall in love?”

“Some of it.  You were kind to me, when you remembered who I was. You let me try myself instead of telling me what to do. You pushed me beyond my limits and kept pushing.  There were days I nearly fell asleep in the bath at the end of the day, and collapsed into bed – and as you know, times I slept in the library when I just couldn’t make it back to my bed.  Or on nights I tried to catch a stray grain of sand,” Khadgar admitted.

“Your curiosity and persistence in seeking those sands saved more than just me… and I would have been angry had I known – then. Now I am grateful for your persistence.”

“The more I saw, of you, I mean, the more there was to become fond of.  Then you just… collapsed for days, and had me take care of things for you.”  Khadgar blushed. “I stayed with you. Worked in your room. Watched you sleep. After a while I simply let Moroes bring your broth to you and fed you myself. I talked to you.”  He closed his eyes. “It was then.  I didn’t recognize it, but it was then.  The thought of losing you began to hurt.  And then I saw that vision of-of Sargeras and…”

“And I woke to find you on the floor.”

“I hadn’t been sleeping,” Khadgar said quietly. “I tried to attack that vision. To protect you. I told myself it was because you were the Guardian, and as your apprentice it was my duty to make sure you were safe, even at the cost of my own life. An apprentice can be replaced. The Guardian cannot.”

“In other words, when I woke to find you caring for me, and realized just how much I cared for you was when you realized the same,” Medivh mused quietly. Khadgar nodded with a slight shrug. “And then we began the dance around the subject until the day you blew up the library.” Khadgar nodded again.

“Ah, Young Trust, there are less destructive ways of showing someone you love them. Flowers, for instance, or chocolates, or whatever else they come up with for that Love Is in the Air business.” He gestured upwards. “Or this.  I notice it’s not fading.  Most lust-magics fade quickly.”

“I… It wasn’t fueled by lust,” Khadgar murmured, looking up at it. “It may have been powered by lust, but it was not fueled by it.” He winced slightly. “Have I altered something here?” he asked, concerned.

“Doubtful.  It will fade over time.”

“Mm,” Khadgar sighed and settled back down against Medivh’s shoulder.  “So. It’s in the open now.  Years, decades too late.”

“There will be others—“

“Never. Never in the past thirty years. Never before, and never after.”

“You shouldn’t close your heart like that.”

“How is it closing my heart if you are here, and I love you, and only you?” Khadgar hadn’t meant for the words to come out as fiercely as they did, but they had, unbidden.

“And if I am here because I am bound to this tower, and have only come here because of your will?  When you find another, I will fade into the pages of history, and when this tower finally succumbs to the twisted magics here, when the Nether claims it…”

“Then so will it devour me.”

Medivh closed his eyes.  His heart ached – what was left of it.  He reached up and stroked Khadgar’s cheek. “And the Legion?”

“Unless you feel that Karazhan will die tomorrow, I should have enough time.”

“And if I fade and you can’t call me back?”

Atiesh dimmed, and the pulsing stopped for a moment.

“I—“

“You see? Oh, Khadgar you must live on, and forget me, once you leave this place for the last time.  Leave the ghosts to their memories, leave the imprints behind.”

“Never.  This tower holds too much knowledge for me to just leave it forever.”

“Take the books back to Dalaran. Or your own personal library. Build your own stronghold – unless you intend to claim Karazhan as is your right.”

“I haven’t the power to call it back from the monstrosity it is becoming,” Khadgar said, slowly, sadly. “Not and tend everything else that I must.”

“Spoken like a true Guardian.”

“I already told you I am no—“

Lips against his silenced the younger mage, and he trembled against the attack.  He pulled back to breathe.  “You cheated,” he whispered.

“I always cheat when I can press the advantage.”  Medivh grinned, his eyes lighting with it, then he leaned up to kiss Khadgar again, slowly, teasingly.  “And I have an advantage now.  Surely now that you have unburdened your heart to me, finally, perhaps you can find more peace in writhing beneath me as you once did, crying my name to the Nether as I drove you past the point of endurance?”

Khadgar blushed.  “I—“

“And now that your heart is exposed, not to a tainted entity but to me, properly, perhaps, just perhaps, it will change how things work.  Not that I don’t want you begging me for relief, but I want to see the love in it – that last thing you held back from me.” _For it may be the one and only time I ever see it…_ “And now that you are older, you surely have a little more confidence, hm? More authority. Use it. You technically outrank me, Archmage Khadgar. Of the Kirin Tor. Of the Violet Citadel. Of Dalaran. Of Lordaeron.”

Khadgar blushed, a deep crimson that spread to his ears, down the back of his neck and across his chest. “Oh no,” he moaned softly.  Medivh laughed.

“Moroes was a terrible gossip.” He sighed. “I miss him.  He… was a wonderful companion. He and Cook refused to leave me.”

Khadgar shifted to lay a hand over Medivh’s.  “I’m sorry,” he began.

“No – no don’t be. The past is the past, and there is little that can be done to change it without altering the outcome.  The sands must fall – regardless of the order, they must fall, and this is how they were meant to fall.”

“I could wish,” Khadgar said softly, “that my grain had crossed the neck of the hourglass a little sooner.”

Medivh choked, and Khadgar looked up at him.  Medivh shook his head, looking down at the altered form of the apprentice he had come to love.  “After all I did to you—“

“After all you had done for me.”

“And the times I tried to kill you – I stole your youth away from you—“

“The fel madness stole my youth from me, and it just took me a few years to let magic heal some of the damage as I caught up to it. Do not compare yourself to that demon.” Khadgar lifted himself up a little, and kissed Medivh with such force that it stole the former Guardian’s breath. “Do not _ever_ compare yourself to that monster again.”

Medivh stared at Khadgar, and their eyes met.  Khadgar’s pale blue eyes had turned a blazing azure, and the power held there made him gasp.  Oh, he must be a sight when he was truly angry or roused in any other fashion – he already knew what arousal could do to him.  It was no wonder he kept such a tight leash on his emotions.  He leaned up and returned the kiss, pulling Khadgar under him with relative ease, his lips bruising the Archmage’s as he let his own emotions loose on his former apprentice.

“Not as long as you remind me there was more to me than a monster.”

“As long as I draw breath.”

“Then _live_ Khadgar. My Young Trust. _Live_ and don’t pine away for a memory.”  Khadgar ignored the words and pulled the Magus down against him, sliding a leg under Medivh’s and lifting his thigh.  Medivh gasped and tried to pull away.  Khadgar wrapped his other leg around the older mage’s and held it trapped between his own.

“I am living,” he answered simply, pulling Medivh’s head down again.  “And right now, I want to be doing other things. If this is a dream, a memory, or just a passing vision, I want it to leave me bruised and empty and enough to fill my heart and remember why I must live.”

Medivh tilted his head to press his lips to the pulse along Khadgar’s neck, and kissed it, softly, then ran his tongue over the spot. And then bit it sharply. He used his weight to keep the younger mage in place as he sucked at the bite ruthlessly, leaving a bruise that would show, even with what the mage usually wore.  He wanted that mark seen, every time Khadgar saw his reflection, dressed or not.  He trailed lower, leaving more such marks, and refusing to let his former apprentice arch or move at all beneath him.  He ran nails down his sides, leaving red welts where they passed, dug in, leaving crescent-shaped marks on the skin.

Khadgar could do little but make tiny noises at every bite, moaned darkly as nails dragged across his skin, and yelped when the nails dug in.  And he reveled in it.  When Medivh let him up, he found his wrists bound again, and this time they were secured above his head, bands closed around his ankles and pulled him into a stretch so his feet were at the edges of the chaise, and he was open and vulnerable – and unable to interfere. He watched as Medivh sat back on the edge of the chaise, moving one finger, and runes appeared on his skin.  Khadgar tried to lift his head enough to read them, but they were just out of reach.  A shift in weight and a nail traced them, so Khadgar could feel them.

Silence.

Binding.

Lust.

As soon as the last one was drawn, his body warmed.  He opened his mouth to speak, but found his tongue would not obey.  His eyes widened as Medivh turned his head and smiled, a feral grin that held something in his eyes that spoke of longing, desire and a request – a request to trust him. Khadgar could only nod, slightly.

He felt more marks sucked into his skin, down his torso and along his legs, several on his inner thighs, and he squirmed – or tried to – as his arousal built.  Lines of fire followed Medivh’s fingertips, followed by lines of ice, followed by arcane sparks.  He cried out, and found that if he did not try to speak, he could still do so. Clever.

“So interesting. I never thought of doing something like this until you did it earlier.  And you respond so beautifully,” Medivh mused.  A wave of his hand released Khadgar’s ankles, and he reached for the vial on the table. “But I’m afraid that I find myself impatient.  Must be something about admissions and something further about suppressed emotions and such.”

A touch between Khadgar’s legs trailed to his cleft as Medivh shifted his leg out of the way.  The light shifted as Atiesh brightened in its pulsing and the lights around them pulsed brighter.  “Ah, have you missed this then?”  A finger slid in and Khadgar cried out again, and moved, not away from the touch, but toward.  A muffled moan touched his ears and he chuckled softly again.  With his free hand, he reached up and raked his nails across the silence rune, leaving blood trails.  “I find I want to hear you.  It was your voice that always spurred me anyway.”  A second finger sank as easily as the first, and he was rewarded with another arch.  He kept Atiesh in his peripheral vision as he teased and stretched Khadgar’s muscles, the visible representation of Khadgar’s pulse very interesting to watch, even as he could feel it beneath his hands.  He shifted impatiently, trying to rein in his own desires; he was far from done with tormenting his former student.

Khadgar remained as quiet as he could – at least until a third finger slid in and he arched with a soft cry.  Words spilled from his lips before he realized they had, demanding that Medivh “get on with it”, and got a chuckle in reply. One finger curled into a hook and brushed upwards, and Khadgar arched, and more words tumbled as things he had only felt in dreams suddenly came alive and sent fire along his nerves and sparks across his vision and oh by the Light he needed this.  What was earlier was lovely but this – this was what he wanted.  But the teasing just continued.  He twitched, squirming in his arousal, and his hips lifted.  Oh if Medivh just kept going… just like that, he could… He could…

Cold bands snapped into place at the base of his cock, then just under the head, and another around his balls.  Tight enough to feel, but not tight enough to hurt.  He wailed in frustration, even as Medivh continued to tease him.

“I would never have bound you when you were younger – restraints would have done you more harm then, but now? Now I can torment you to my heart’s content – you’ve had the edges taken off… and now I can push you to your limits. And I intend to, Young Trust.”

“Medivh – Master – please… don’t do this, not like this, not when—“

“Not when I have you so close already?  Trust in me.”  The fingers withdrew and Khadgar bit his lip.

Something rather larger than fingers pressed against him, and nudged forward, and with a sharp intake of breath, Khadgar relaxed, and … oh that was lovely… this was what he missed for so many years.  The aching void of him was being filled by something that only one person on the whole of any world he had set foot on could fill.

Medivh moved slowly, angling to brush against _that spot_ and watched the Archmage’s reactions, his heart pounding in his chest almost in time with the pulsing of Atiesh, now.  Khadgar’s head lay back, tilted so his throat was exposed, and the pulse was visible there.  His mouth was open, lips parted just enough to aid his breathing, which was forced in slow, deep gasps – a breathing exercise to keep his sanity intact.  A lock of hair had strayed to his forehead, and for a moment, just a moment, Medivh could see a younger man there, with raven black hair, a white streak through it, his head tilted just like now, keening cries vibrating his throat as he was driven ever closer to his goal.

The older mage shook off the vision, and his body began to move of its own accord, his thrusts speeding up, watching the expression on the younger man’s face change subtly; the closed eyes opened, and glowed from within, his lip found its way between his teeth, and he tried to arch, his feet trying to plant themselves to gain more leverage.  Medivh threw him off balance by pulling one of his legs over his shoulder and shifted forward, his thrusts becoming far less gentle, and remembering something Khadgar had said earlier, wrapped a hand around one hip, and made sure it would bruise when he moved away.

The tight heat was exactly as he remembered it – perhaps a trifle tighter, after thirty years, but it was no less welcoming and warm and velvet around him. He found himself fighting, and fighting hard to keep control.

Khadgar’s head lifted just a little, so he could meet the other mage’s eyes.  “Stop,” he whispered. Medivh slowed down, but Khadgar shook his head. “Stop holding back.”

“If I don’t, I’ll hurt you.”

“Hurt me then! I’m not seventeen anymore, Med. I’m not going to break if you hurt me.”

Medivh’s heart ached at the shortened version of his name, and he leaned over Khadgar and let his leg fall into the crook of his arm as he let years of pent up desire come to the fore, and before he realized it, he could hear the creak of the wood beneath him as his body moved, the sharp gasps that escaped Khadgar as the movements sharpened.

“Yes,” Khadgar hissed.  He tried to lift his arms, but snarled when he found he could not.  Understanding, Medivh leaned down, his angle changing enough that Khadgar’s hisses turned to keening wails.

“That’s the sound I want to hear.  Oh _Light_ , Khadgar. I’ve waited years to hear you keen like that. Just like that.”

Whether the words penetrated or not, it didn’t matter. The wails shifted slowly, as Khadgar’s hips lifted, trying to find purchase against his mentor’s skin, forgetting the bindings that held him.  Medivh reached hand down and began to stroke him in time with his thrusts, just as roughly.  The cries intensified, and words began to spill from his lips again – begging, pleading, and Medivh drank it in like parchment drinks in ink, imprinting those noises to memory.

To keep himself from casting something, he concentrated on answering the begging, the pleading, the cries of his own name.  The abyss was creeping up to swallow him, and he didn’t want it to, not yet, not until he saw Khadgar come apart, not until the other could break his bindings and… and …

It was unstoppable. He had pushed too far.  Khadgar’s eyes were hot on his as he tried to gasp out a warning, and impossibly heard encouragement as he stilled and his world went white.

He came back to himself within a few heartbeats, still able to feel the slickness of precome against his stomach, the tight heat around him that was keeping him harder than he had been in decades, and feeling able to do that again in full.

Khadgar was watching him, his breath shallow, his heartbeat racing.  The lights around them had finally faded, though Atiesh still pulsed.

Medivh banished the bonds around Khadgar with another rake of his nails, and felt himself embraced at once.  Heated kisses blurred his mind, as he began to move again, letting the pace do as it would. It didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered but the here and now.

There were no secrets between them now, but Medivh would keep everything he knew to himself.  Let no one else know what Khadgar carried on his shoulders, the pains in his heart – he would keep Khadgar’s secrets so Khadgar could live up to his name – Trust.

He ran his hands through silver hair, and wished he could take the spell of so long ago back.  Khadgar’s mouth felt like molten fire on his, their tongues warring in a dance of dominance.  His hands left fire where they touched, and his own nails left marks he knew Khadgar would feel for some time to come.  The younger mage’s legs had wrapped around his waist and he had twisted so Medivh could sink deeper with every thrust – and each one was harder than the last.

Words began as simple affirmations of love, but soon crossed the lines from love to lover, as Khadgar begged Medivh to fuck him harder, his own hips matching the elder’s pace, arms gripping shoulders enough to leave marks, kiss-bruised lips open in silent cries, gasps for breath or to whisper something inane.

Something had snapped between them, as though they both felt time wearing on, and leaving them behind.  Something in the tower was shifting, and they raced to beat the clock.

Or the hourglass.

Khadgar arched, his back making an ominous cracking noise as he cried out for Medivh to not stop – not that Medivh could at that point.  He was so close, so close, and he intended to take his beloved into the abyss with him, this time, he would not let him live on memories for another thirty years.

It was cruel, and he wouldn’t do it again.  His hand wrapped around Khadgar’s cock and stroked it to the timing of his frantic thrusts, and Khadgar was screaming his name, his hands around his shoulders, nails digging into the flesh and ignored the blood that seeped from the wounds.  Medivh ran his nails down Khadgar’s back, leaving blood-trails as he had over the rune he had drawn earlier, practically weeping the other mage’s name.

Without realizing what was happening, they both began to speak – the same language, the same incantation, and before either could realize it and stop the other, the last of their controls broke and as Khadgar felt the heat filling him, he could feel the heat between them as he spent himself in Medivh’s wake.

Violet light exploded around them as their combined spell _almost_ completed.  The room went black, and somewhere in the dim light of the globes on the tables, the clattering of a staff echoed in the silence.


	4. Misplaced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the fabric of time just isn't strong enough for love to bloom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did warn of heartbreak. And angst.

Khadgar woke with a start, the clattering invading his dreams and making him sit bolt upright.

The chair beneath him creaked, and he stood up, looking around.  “Guardian? Moroes?”

His notes were scattered across the table and he could see a drool mark on the book he had been reading.  Great. Just what he needed.  Well, the last time he tried to dry one, he’d almost set the book on fire.  He’d just let it lie for a few moments.  He wondered what time it was.  He looked up, and saw nothing but stars out the windows. So it was late, or early, and he probably should go to bed.

He looked balefully at the door of the library, knowing he’d have to climb stairs to get to his room.  His eyes turned to another set of stairs, one that led to a reading room.  He turned his steps that way, leaving his work the way it was.  Only a few hours before dawn and he would be back to it anyway.

He stopped at the threshold of the reading room – it looked like an explosion had taken place.  The chairs were slammed against the wall, and one of them had its upholstery torn.  The chaise was ravaged, as though it had aged – or been the center of the explosion. The bookshelves were blown apart, the windows shattered, the mantel had fallen into the tiny fireplace.

Khadgar took a step backwards, and another, and a third, and found himself unbalancing on the balcony, the rail only knee-height. He toppled backwards and reached up a hand, calling magic to slow his fall, but too late.  The last syllable died on his lips as his back and head made painful contact with the floor.  His eyes blurred, and his head ached in a way he’d never felt it hurt before.  This wasn’t right. There was something wrong.  He had to find Medivh… but he couldn’t get up.  He felt nausea rise along with panic.  He heard footsteps, and recognized the step as the Guardian’s, and not Moroes.

“Light above.. what happened?”  He felt hands touching the back of his head, waving in front of his eyes.

“The study – reading room.  Something.. Something’s wrong. It.. it..”

“Shh… Young Trust you’re very injured. We need to get you to a healer, or get a healer here…” The Magus lifted his head and called softly for Moroes, then called louder when there was no answer.

Khadgar tried to sit up again, but Medivh held him down.  “The study, Master. Please. It’s destroyed. Looks like an explosion.”

Medivh looked at him for the first time, then blinked. “Explosion? In the study?” He looked up the stairs, then back down, swearing softly in what sounded like an Elven dialect.  “Stay here. Don’t move. I will go look – but you must stay still.” Khadgar nodded, and closed his eyes…

 

His back ached.  His ass ached. He could feel bruises along his skin, and his eyes opened.  His eyes met Medivh’s and he smiled sweetly, the way only a love-struck teenager could. 

“Are you all right?” Khadgar nodded.  “Good.  No use in you going back to your room tonight. If Moroes hasn’t figured it out by now, he will eventually.” He pulled the blankets over them, and settled himself around Khadgar’s smaller body.

The sound of an explosion sounded from downstairs, and both of them gasped.  “That wasn’t me, this time.”

“You left nothing in an alchemical apparatus?”

“No, sir, nothing of the sort.”

Blankets were thrown aside, and pants and shirts hastily thrown on, and to hell with shoes.  Their bare feet slapped lightly on the stairs as they descended to the library.  All was quiet.  A glint of violet caught Khadgar’s eye and he pointed to the railing that led into the reading room “There!” he cried.

They ascended the stairs, and Khadgar reached to push open the door, which crumbled into mana-dust.  The destruction was thorough.   Medivh moved into the room, looking around. “This was an arcane explosion,” he said, softly.  Then he leveled his eyes on Khadgar, who backed up a pace.  “The power signatures are… quite clear.  There was not one caster, but two.”

“How could they have gotten in? I didn’t sense the wards—“

“The casters were us, Young Trust.”

“Us? But…”

“How? I don’t know. When? Perhaps that is the more appropriate question.  The power it took to do this...” He reached out and touched a table that contained two mugs and a small vial – which vanished as his finger brushed the wood.  “Curious.”

Khadgar had edged into the room, and was eying a destroyed armchair.  “Sir…?” he said, slowly, reaching down to pick something up.  Medivh turned, and saw fingertips touch a staff that was more than intimately familiar – and glowing in a dull shade of blue that was slowly fading.

“Khadgar no! Don’t!”  A flash of violet light burst and collapsed in on the point of origin.

 

Blood dripped steadily down the sword, and Khadgar shoved forward, driving the blade deep enough to burst out of Medivh’s back.  He wanted to weep, scream, something as they sank to the ground, but the words stopped him cold.

“Thank you.” Green eyes, clear and tinged with silver and gold looked Khadgar over, and green met blue.  “I fought it… as long as I… could…”

Khadgar could not speak, for the mage was changing, and he longed to back away, but he refused to let go of the sword in his hands.

What had he done?

He closed his eyes and felt the hot tracks of tears down his face.

 

Felfire burned his eyes as he opened them, and Khadgar looked up.  The Violet Citadel lay in ruins, the spire of the Guardian’s chambers crumbled.  Flames burned everywhere he looked. And he lay in the center of the citadel, staring up at a green sky.

So this was how it would end.  He gathered himself, and reached for Atiesh, beside him, and used it to get to the steps of the ruins.  He looked around.  He saw… nothing. No one. No demons. None of Azeroth’s champions. No citizens.

He limped forward.  Was he the only living creature left on Azeroth?  He felt, more than heard the approach of another, and he whirled to face them.

“Medivh?” he murmured incredulously.

“Once. Perhaps. I thought I’d taken care of you. Obviously my former apprentice has a little more luck than the rest of the world.”

Khadgar shifted, his feet planting and he whipped Atiesh in a circle around him, calling a shield of pure arcane power.

But it didn’t come.

Medivh began to laugh.  “Your toy is useless. There is no magic left but that which we grant.”

Blue eyes widened, then looked around.  “This is wrong.”

“No, this is right.  Perhaps – perhaps in another time I would be sorry. But not this time.” The Magus walked forward and pulled a dagger from his belt.  “In another time, I might weep for this. But not this time.  He drove the dagger between Khadgar’s ribs, piercing his heart.  “An eye for an eye, a heart for a heart, Young Trust.”  He pulled the dagger out, and stepped back to watch Khadgar collapse to the ground, coughing up blood.

Atiesh skittered away from him as he fell.

 

Blue eyes opened, reflecting the soft blue light of one of the last remaining functioning globes in the library. With a sigh, Khadgar sat up, mumbling a curse as he noticed that his quill had splattered ink across his notes when… when…

He looked at the table, noted an empty mug and that Atiesh lay across it, not leaned against it.  He seized the staff, and turned, robes flying, to run down a back alley of shelves, up a staircase… and into wreckage.

Memory shreds fell into place as he moved forward, taking in the violet light that permeated every bit of the room, the scent of Mageroyal and Kingsblood still in the air.  A crystal vial lay shattered next to the ruined chaise, and the armchairs were starting to break down into dust.  Something pulsed dully beside one of them, and he shook his head.  It couldn’t be. There was no way possible for Atiesh to lay there pulsing to the beat of his own heart, when the staff was in his hand, lending its light to the destruction around him.  He bent down to look at it, and reached out to touch it.

An echo sounded, loud in his ears, as though from the bottom of a well. “Khadgar no! Don’t!”  But it was too late. His fingertips brushed the staff’s shaft, and he felt something twisting inside him, as though he was being turned inside out.  He screamed, but knew there was no one here who could help him, let alone save him from whatever happened.

 

Medivh sighed, one hand outstretched. But it was too late. Khadgar was gone in a flash of violet light that collapsed to a point of origin – on the chaise.  He moved closer to it, and hovered his hand over it, murmuring detection spells.

And gasped.

 

Blood blossomed between his fingers as he dropped Atiesh and clutched at his chest, looking up at Gul’dan’s grinning eyes.  He staggered backwards, and heard voices, screaming, prayers, and felt the Light of healing touch him, but it did nothing to stem the blood flow or stop the pain.  He staggered back again, and dropped to his knees.  Was this it then? Was this his end? Here, against an adversary he had gone back in time itself to pursue, and now this?  He closed his eyes.

No. Not like this.  He called all the power he could to him as he reclaimed the fallen staff, and ignored the blood pouring from his death wound.  He raised the staff and looked Gul’dan in the eyes as he directed the staff at Light’s Heart, and focused.  The soul crystal shattered, Light’s Heart sang. And then, and only then did he let himself fall, murmuring, “Medivh… wait for me. Wherever you may be…”  Atiesh fell from limp fingers and rolled away, clattering as it touched the ground, his eyes dulling to a pale silvery blue.

 

He was weeping.  He couldn’t stop the tears, and his head lay pillowed on his arms.  Something was wrong and he was the cause, and it had happened while he was here.  He had awakened to find Atiesh leaning against the table, but time was moving in such ways that he couldn’t grasp it. He saw his own death in multiple ways – felt Medivh’s loving smile turn to hatred.  Let his curiosity blast him to motes. Bled out in an unknown battle with Gul’dan.

A hand touched his back, softly.  He jerked upwards, and turned his head.  Medivh stood there, looking immensely sad.

“Young Trust, it is no longer safe here. Not for a while. You must go.”

“The explosion—“

“I’m not sure what we’ve done, but the balance is tipped.  Karazhan is dying.  And I with it.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“You must.  You still yet live.”

“I don’t want to, if I can’t… If I’ll never…”

“You did once before and you were fine. You can do it again.”

“How do I restore the tower?”

Medivh stared at Khadgar, who had risen and taken Atiesh into his hand again. “What?”

“The tower. How do I restore the tower?” Khadgar asked again, fiercely.

Medivh laid a hand on Khadgar’s shoulder, and leaned forward to brush a kiss to his lips.  “You’re sure you want to do this?”

Khadgar nodded.  “And I will not leave here again like I left it before.  I can spend just as much time here as I do in Dalaran.”

“Light be with you then.  Call the leylines in my private study. Call them to the first floor of the study.”  He leaned forward and whispered, words, the incantation that would call the lines. And then he stepped back.

“Will this hurt you?”

“It will be painful, but perhaps the pain will be worth it.”

“Would it be possible for you to help, considering we both—“

“No. You must call alone.” Medivh sighed.  “It is… It is the rite of a Guardian, claiming the tower.”

Khadgar stopped in his tracks. “Will it…”

“No. It will not bind you.  The tower will just bind to you and answer you as it once did me… and even you know I didn’t know everything.”  Khadgar turned and started up the stairs.

Medivh waited in the library, eyes closed, praying to the Light that instead of destroying everything, the Calling would restore what was able to be restored, stabilize what was left, and his imprints would remain.  If not, he may have just shattered the heart of the one person he could ever love in his life.

He felt the stirrings of power as it was drawn from the leylines. He could feel the song of power as it coursed up the stonework, into the study. Wards activated. Runes flared.  And it all began to falter.

“No,” Medivh whispered, turning to run up the stairs.  He stopped short at the sight that greeted him on the landing.

Khadgar held Atiesh in both hands, planted firmly on the floor,  eyes closed, sweat beading on his forehead.

“Don’t doubt yourself, Young Trust,” Medivh murmured.  He could feel his form fading in and out of reality as the stones around him recognized a new master.

Khadgar opened his eyes, and found Medivh’s as he raised the staff, and completed the calling.  The glow gradually began to return to the room. Lights lit that had long been dark.

And Medivh sighed, closing his eyes.  Arms wrapped around him.  “You’re not going to leave me now… are you?” The voice sounded so insecure, and he had to chuckle. “No. Just readjust. It will all be fine now.”

 

The clattering of Atiesh falling to the floor was loud in the silence, and Khadgar woke with a start.  He looked around the library, mumbled something to himself, and stood up to reach for Atiesh again.  He was tired, obviously, and wasn’t sure he could make it back to Dalaran by teleportation or by gryphon.  He looked up the stairs, longingly, but shook his head.  He didn’t want to know.  If it was real, it was real. If it was not, going into that room would send him back into the time loop and … his heart ached.

He shifted aside his books and notes, stoppered his ink bottle, and set the lot in the empty chair. Cradling Atiesh, he got up onto the table and stretched out, the comforting blue glow of the globe soothing his eyes as he closed them.  And ignored the tears that fell as he fell asleep.


End file.
